


Broken Angels

by shinnyluvssuju



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, HanChul - Freeform, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinnyluvssuju/pseuds/shinnyluvssuju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hankyung thinks Heechul looks like a boken angel, one with hair like dark ashes that cries tears of blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Cutting, depression
> 
> I didn't mean to give birth to this fic, I honestly didn't. But at 3:20 am I got inspiration and... this happened. I promise i'll go back to fluffy HanChul soon. Next post is a fluffy one :3

Hankyung thinks Heechul looks like a broken angel, one with hair like dark ashes that cries tears of blood. It's almost poetic, really, and if he knew the first thing about writing, Heechul would definitely be his muse.  
  
Last time he was here, laying in the same bed as Heechul and holding him in his arms, he would've compared Heechul to a breath of fresh air, a gust of wind blowing flowers in a feild and sometimes, a tornado, because that was just Heechul. He was a whirlind of passion, voice, and laughter.   
  
Heechul's sleeve is hiked up just high enough on his arm that the scares are visible, and that makes Hankyung stop thinking. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep, because once he starts thinking about the scars, it really messes with his head.   
  
-  
  
The first time he did it, he was unsure.  
  
He dug through the medecine cabinet looking for pills for his headache and that's when he saw the scissors. He picked them up tentatively, holding them up against the light. They must be germy, he thought. Probably'd give you a nasty infection. He put them down by the sink.  
  
Hongki mentioned doing it once in high school -- just once, he assured him. He said for a short time it works, but the novelty wears off quicker than you'd expect.  
  
Heechul picked them up again, then put them down, until he had them firmly in his hand. Why would anyone hurt themselves? Normal humans don't inflict pain on themselves.  
  
Then again, Heechul never did consider himself normal.  
  
He slowly brought the right blade of the scissor to his upper arm, just grazing the skin. It wasn't all that bad, he supposed, yet he didn't see how it helped. He dug the blade deeper into his skin, hissing in pain when he'd gone to far and slowly removing it.   
  
In an ironic way, it kind of helped.   
  
He moved up his arm, leaving behind cuts just deep enough to leave marks.   
  
It distracted him, and he then realized that's why people did it. The pain distracted you from any other pain inside you were feeling. To him, physical pain was beter than the pain in his heart.  
  
Soon he had to wipe the blood off his arms.  
  
-  
  
"You smell like cigarettes," Hankyung said, scrunching up his nose as he entered their bedroom, Heechul sprawled out on the bed.   
  
"Yeah, well," was all Heechul said.  
  
"I thought you quit years ago."  
  
"I did. But then I started again."  
  
Hankyung was going to ask when, but instead, layed down on the bed with Heechul in his arms, his face nuzzled against Heechul's neck. The smell of smoke was overwhelming but, through that, he smelled Heechul, and that was enough to lull him to sleep.  
  
-  
  
Heechul started smoking again exactly two weeks and three days after Hankyung left.  
  
He knew Siwon would tell Eeteuk and Eeteuk would confisgate them so, he took to smoking outside in the alley behind the building.  
  
He'd sit on the bench with the hood of his black sweatshirt up, headphones in and cigarette in hand. He'd sometimes wear sunglasses and sometimes he wouldn't, but it didn't make a difference anyway. Nobody recognized him.  
  
Why would Kim Heechul, the fabulous idol, be sitting in an alley, smoking on a bench?  
  
He'd cut his hair and dyed it back to black. He didn't like the buzz cut they gave him in the army, so he grew it out just enough that the fringe fell over his eyes when it rained. He thinks the army played a huge role in draining the life out of him, but he may just be making excuses.  
  
He likes the person he becomes in the alley. Instead of Heenim the celebrity, he's just Heechul, average guy who most people assume is a homeless drugee when they see him on his bench. He's skinny enough to be one, anyway.  
  
-  
  
Heechul's had too much to drink, they both know it.  
  
Hankyung grabs him by the wrist, tries to bring him to his room to put him to bed, but he's shook off with a harsh and slurred, "Don't touch me."  
  
"Heechul, come on."  
  
"Don't fucking tell me what to do, Hankyung."  
  
Hankyung throws his hands up in surrender as Heechul mixes himself yet another drink. "You have no right to tell me what to do," he says. "Hell, you think you can just come back and be the boss of everything all of a sudden? Fuck you, you can't."  
  
Hankyung has a feeling he knows where this conversation is going, and he doesn't like it one bit. He wants Heechul to stop talking. He hopes he passes out from the alcohol.  
  
"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here after what, almost four years? Five?"  
  
Hankyung remembers it to be closer to five.  
  
"You know, I needed you," Heechul says, voice getting louder. I needed you, and where the fuck were you, Hankyung? Bet you weren't thinking about me while you were fucking some girl in China!"  
  
Hankyung wants to tell Heechul that this wasn't easy for him either, but he can't will his mouth to form words.  
  
"Oh come on, I'm not stupid, Hankyung. You're you, too sexy for your own damn good and you, you probably lure chicks in left and right and they're prettier than me, aren't they?" Heechul is yelling now, face getting red. "You're a bastard, Han Geng!"  
  
Heechul never uses his real name. It feels so foreign to hear it out of his mouth.  
  
"I would've died for you, and if we didn't live in this god damn country I would've married you. Do you care about me even one fucking bit?"  
  
Hankyung stands up but before he can even think, Heechul is kissing him, and it's rough and desperate and he's muttering things that Hankyung can't quite make out.   
  
He prys Heechul away from him and puts his hands on his shoulders. "Heechul, go to sleep."  
  
Heechul looks at him for a few moments, then walks away mumbling.  
  
-  
  
Heechul came home from his bench that night in tears.   
  
He hated crying, and he hated showing weakness, but tonight he couldn't hold it in as he stumpled through the dorm and into the bathroom where he all but slammed the door shut behind him.   
  
He knocked various items over in the medicine cabinet as he grabbed the scissors, wasting no time slicing into his skin as he cried -- no, sobbed.  
  
The harder he cried the harder he pushed, deeper into flesh, deeper into blood that dripped on the floor. He watched the red beads roll down his arm, falling into a puddle. It was almost hypnotizing. He wanted more.  
  
The door was pushed open out of nowhere, Siwon running in and snatching the scissors out of his hand in a flash.  
  
He sat down on the bathroom floor next to Heechul, who now was staring blankly into the wall, dried up tears making marks on his face.  
  
"Hyung," Siwon said, almost hysterical. Heechul didn't answer. "Hyung!" He shook Heechul by the shoulders, who remained motionless.   
  
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Siwon asked him in a shaky whisper, a hand on Heechul's face.  
  
"What else is there to do?" Heechul replied.  
  
"Let me help you," he said, and slowly inched his face closer to Heechul's until he could place a soft kiss on his lips.  
  
Heechul roughly pushed him away by the chest and got up. "Stop fucking around, Siwon."  
  
Siwon was left to stand in confusion and then, cleaned the blood from the bathroom.  
  
-  
  
Heechul wrapps his arms around Hankyung's neck, their bodies close together as they kissed. Today was one of those days where Heechul would let Hankyung touch him, play with his hair and really, really kiss him, like they used to. Hankyung would take whatever he could get if it would remind him of the past. Anything to make him believe it.   
  
Hankyung places a hand on Heechul's inner thigh, but quickly removes it when Heechul winces in pain. It's slight, but definitely noticable. He pulls away to look at him. "What happened to your leg?"  
  
"Nothing," Heechul says and now, now he looks absolutely frantic as he tries to pull Hankyung in to kiss him again.   
  
Hankyung doesn't let Heechul distract him, and despite Heechul's pleas -- "Hankyung, really, it's nothing, don't!" -- he rolls up Heechul's pant leg.  
  
"Dear god," he mutters, staring at Heechul's thigh, covered in scratches and scars, bright red and some looking newer than others. Now he knows why he only saw a little bit of those scratches; Heechul had obviously strategically placed them in spots that would be easily covered by clothing, where no would could see. He must not have included Hankyung in the equation.   
  
Heechul looks at him with the most pleading eyes and in that moment, Hankyung notices Heechul's hair is getting longer and that today, he's wearing eyeliner and his favorite pink converse.   
  
He unrolls his pant leg and covers the scars back up because for now, he didn't want to upset Heechul because he really seemed to be getting better.   
  
If Heechul could get back to loving his life again, Hankyung could get back to loving his, too.


End file.
